Sugar Daddy Season (ONC 2024)

Chapter 4 ~ Lucky Girl

                Tonight will be my first shift at Penthouse as a go-go dancer, and despite my experience with performing in front of an audience, I’m anxious. It runs through my limbs like electric pulses, snapping and zapping as the hours countdown. But I can’t sit around waiting, so I pull on some tights and use the living room to practice the routines Tina helped me choreograph. 

After a while, my father shuffles in and relaxes in his Lazy-Boy recliner to watch TV. His memory is spottier than usual today, and he’s snarled at my mom a few times. The doctor says it will happen and not to take it personally—his mind is confused. Yet, it doesn’t change how hard it is for my mother to see the love of her life become someone else as he battles a disease none of us can control.

He clicks through channels and stops when he gets to the news, then sets the remote down and folds his hands over his little pot belly. He’s adorable sometimes. I continue dancing but come to a halt when the news anchor says the holidays are over, but the murders aren’t.

The broadcast cuts to a scene in an alleyway with flashing police lights as the anchor proceeds with the update.

“Did they just say a body was found?” I ask my dad.

“That’s five since December, and all with similar markings.” 

“Similar markings?” I quirk my brow.

“Each time they find one, the victim is in her twenties, and they have marks around their wrists and ankles like they were tied up. All strangled, too.”

“Oh, my God…” my hands go to my chest, and I swallow the bile rising in my throat. 

“I think it’s a serial killer. Someone is always trying to be the new Zodiac, and I’m worried.”

“Why are you worried?”

 “Because this world can be such an awful place, and I have two daughters. I want them to be safe. You know?”

“Yeah, I know…”

“My oldest daughter, Lydia, is married, so her husband can protect her, but my youngest, Mara.” His brows crease with concern. “She’s still in high school, and she walks home from school. Maybe I should buy her pepper spray.” 

“I think she’d appreciate that,” I sigh and resume dancing. 

My father rubs his forehead, his eyes searching the carpet like he’s digging for memories that he knows are there but can’t pluck from the depths of his foggy mind. I twirl, and it catches his attention.

“Are you a ballerina?” His eyes light up.

“Yes, I am, but I lost my job.”

“Why?”

“I was let go.”

“Well, that’s absurd. You’re a star.”

“Far from it,” I laugh softly, but it turns into a sob, so I wipe my eyes and turn away.

There have been so many occasions where I’ve had entire conversations with my dad before realizing he has no idea who I am. At least this time, I caught on quicker before pouring my heart out about the fears I have about tonight. My father’s recliner squeaks, and then his rough hands smooth over my shoulders. 

“What’s wrong, mijita?”

I spin around, wiping the snot from my runny nose. “Dad?”

“Ay, Mara! You’re crying.” He pulls me into a hug and rubs circles into my back. “What’s wrong, mi niña?”